


The Siren's Lure

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Saxon Women were rescued.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Siren's Lure

It is a very pretty picture –my brother and the Jutish princess holding each other

in the sunshine. Llud and I grin at each other and ride on. We don’t expect Arthur to

follow us for quite some time – perhaps not even that same day. But we are wrong.

Barely an hour later there are thundering hoof beats behind us and he appears around a bend

in the track.

 

Arthur doesn’t exactly look like a gratified young man who has just had a lovely desirable

woman in his arms. As we continue riding his expression grows ever more stormy. He speaks to

Llud civilly enough, even laughs once or twice - but me he ignores or, when forced to

acknowledge me, is curt and frosty. It takes me the rest of the journey home to determine

what is wrong - or rather what Arthur believes I have done wrong.

 

She was definitely not my sister. Her name was Leola . One of the five Saxon women captured

by Yorath for the Greek trader and then rescued by us. Golden hair, the softest skin, a

curved bottom. Last night, after everyone – except of course Arthur – had drunk far too much

of the trader’s ambrosial wine, Leola and I shared, let us call it, an enthusiastic

dalliance. She was lively and lovely. When I kissed her fervently goodbye this morning and

pledged that I would miss her, I was sincere. Now the memory has been marred and soured by

my brother’s icy response. So, by the time we reach our village again, I am more than a

little annoyed myself.

 

As we stable the horses, I finally vent my exasperation . “What’s climbed into your breeches

and bitten your arse? Oh, the fact that Rowena didn’t.” Arthur’s voice is cold and the

flash from his blue eyes like a whip lash. “Naturally you have to be vulgar and think that

everything begins and ends with the need to accommodate one’s cock.” I burst out laughing.

I have such a pompous little brother – he also happens to be the person I love and worship

most in the world and the person I am irredeemably in love with. Now though I could gladly

smack him in his beautiful black head. “Arthur, it must be incredibly hard maintaining such

a profound degree of pretension.” The look he flares at me is livid with fury. “Perhaps

you’d better stay away from me then and instead consort with your flaxen-haired friends.”

And he stalks out, back very straight, aiming a kick at a poor defenceless hen that happens

to totter into his path.

 

Actually it takes a few days for the realisation to fully bloom in my mind (I will readily

admit that I do not always possess the quickest reasoning powers in the village). A few days

of stony silences and Arthur sleeping rigidly with his face turned to the wall. I enjoy

bedding women from time to time – usually it passes without comment. Why has my frolicking

with Leola so unravelled everything ? Llud knows that our apple cart has been well and truly

upset – but thinks it is just boyish nonsense. Our father will not interfere until our

quarrels seem to be leading straight into the territory of broken hearts. At the moment he

hopes that the current disruption will mend itself without undue intervention.

 

It comes to me when I have taken the village boys out to the flat meadow beside the river for

weapons practice. Arthur deals with their sword skills and I concentrate on their dexterity

with the axe. Today, Tugram’s freckle-faced middle son asks a question – not meaning to be

offensive, simply curious. He tilts his face up to mine. “Kai, do you think you are so good

with that axe of yours because you were born a Saxon?” Immediately I know. Arthur is

infuriated - not because I laid with a woman and perhaps somewhat flaunted the fact – he is

raging because Leola was a Saxon woman. I cast my thoughts back to a time when I was given a

tongue lashing for waxing too lyrical about Hildred and then receiving the same stinging

treatment for singing the praises of Freya and Thana. Then there was the whole sorrowful

episode of Roland…. My Saxon birth. Why does Arthur continue to needlessly believe that it

holds any sort of siren’s lure for me? I’m not sure what to do about the situation yet. I

could go and rub my head in a bucket of soot but I don’t think it would make much

difference……..

 

Finally that night, after another meal during which I have spoken to Llud and Llud has spoken

to me and Arthur has spoken to Llud and Llud has spoken to Arthur, I can bear it no longer.

The nights are growing chilly, however I couldn’t care less. I grab my great fur cape and

march outside as soon as Lenni begins to clear the table. The ebony sky is drenched with

stars. I stride out to the palisade and stand leaning against it, choking back hot tears.

Then: a tentative footfall behind me. ‘What are you doing?” Arthur’s voice, uncertain and

faltering. The tears rush up into my throat. “Talking to the moon, since my brother seems

to have been rendered mute.” There is a quiet sob at my shoulder – Arthur? Weeping? Yes,

openly, disconsolately weeping. I am so overwhelmed that I actually glance up at the moon to

see if it has suddenly turned blue. No, still huge and round and milky white. So then there

is nothing else to do but enfold him in my arms while he murmurs “I’m sorry” and “I love

you” and I murmur “Arthur, you beautiful wonderful fool” - until it is quite irrelevant who

is holding who or apologizing because we are both such fools and loving each other is as

inescapable as breathing…….

 

The next morning I hear the sound of things being thrown around in our bedroom. I peer

through the door to see Kai, busily making a pile on his bed – his sheepskin coats, his

fleecy half-boots, a drinking horn he took from one of Cerdig’s men on the battlefield, his

seax and scabbard…. Carefully, I push open the door and edge my way inside. “Kai my heart,

what are you doing?” My brother continues to rummage around in his clothes chest. “Just

getting rid of belongings that I should have discarded long ago. Belongings that I don’t

need and that only cause heartache.” I stoop down beside where he is kneeling. “Big

brother”. Gently I place a finger below his chin so that I am able to look into his wondrous

brown eyes. “These possessions are part of who you are -part of why I love you so. Never

change or discard anything.” Then more gently I raise him to his feet. Kai is smiling now –

even if his gaze is suspiciously moist. “I am enraptured with the extraordinary things we

accomplish together – but I think that sometimes we don’t do enough of this.” And, once

again, I stand in the tender circle of his arms, rest my head on his shoulder and close my

eyes. A little later I hear our father stride up to the door and then creep quietly away.

We stay like that for the longest time………..


End file.
